


The Hidden Library

by TwistedSkys



Series: The Forgotten Memory Saga [1]
Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Alternate Universe, Battle, Mauraders, Spargus, War, Wasteland
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-20
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 16:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedSkys/pseuds/TwistedSkys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a million ways to tell a story, a million ways events might unfold. I've seen a queen die, a baron be overthrown, the death of a great city, and the rise of an even greater warrior. This may not be the story you know, but it is the life I lived.</p><p>Back then I was young. I was involved in the pettiness of childhood. There is so much I regret but it was a time of great happiness and great sorrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The wastelander pushed herself to move faster, determined to get away. Her boots kicked up dust as she went, her scarf billowing out behind her. Other wastelanders traversing the streets jumped out of her path to allow her to pass.

Behind her, two dog like creatures loped after her, growling in their continued failure to capture the fleeing girl. Their long bodies were covered in fur; one black, and the other silver. They lacked the metal limbs and helmets that gave many of their kind their derogative term. These were Hora Quan. The skull gems in their chest glowed brilliantly, brighter than average sickly yellow, but still unmistakable in nature.

Desert Clan Hora Quan, un-poisoned by the effects of dark eco. By now, the people of Spargus had grown used to seeing this duo loping through the streets, for it was a common occurrence. The Desert Clan was allies with Spargus, thanks to the current queen, and the close relationship with the princess.

The fourteen year old girl was hardly a princess by Haven standard. She was rough, and worked just as hard as the common man at keeping her city safe. She was not protected by walls or men, but by her own skill and power; and she would not stand for the protection either way.

She still remembered the fuzzy years of young childhood, before Praxis over-threw her family, when she had been pampered in such a way. Her mother insisted she not have that treatment, and when she no longer had it after the fall of Mar in Haven, she was glad.

She could hear the heavy panting of the metal heads behind her, and she was forced to recognize her own exhaustion. She considered turning to face them, so she could stop running, but her quick mind had already formulated a plan. She forced herself further, faster.

She brought her right arm closer to her, so she could see the flat side of the armor brace on her arm, where a circular device was melded into the metal. She pushed the large button on it once, before she returned her attention to the street in front of her as it got rockier.

She leapt up an incline in the rock, scrambling up to the flatter surface. She knew better than to take the hard route, as the two metal heads were larger and could easier get over the obstacles. But it slowed them down to have to go through a narrow passage. The girl was forced to slide sideways to get through the passage. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the two try to ram into the opening at the same time, then bicker in their own language on who should be allowed to go first.

By the time the silver female had finally broken through the opening, her flanks brushing the walls, Zara had dropped from the opening and was a good couple of yards away. The distraction would not give her time, but distance. She knew she would need it as she veered off again to go through another crack between buildings.

Soon she had given herself enough room to be a little more comfortable, but still didn't dare stop running. She ran up a hill, watching the doors to the car port opening. She felt her endurance coming to its end and knew she had to rest soon, or lose the game.

The car port had two twin towers that rose up from the walls, and crowned at the top, creating effective look out posts. The spiral staircase that lead up to the tops broke off on the right one, to include a ledge of sorts. She climbed up the stairs, skipping three at a time, her legs aching as she reached the top.

She stumbled to the machine that sat alone on the ledge, a soft purring noise coming up from the hull, the only clue as to what the bird shaped machine was on. It was off white, the color of desert clouds, not much bigger than a man, but powerful enough to lift a small one easily. A hole, oval shaped and a little less than a foot across exposed the soft blue glow of the idle thruster.

Zara didn't dare stop her stride as she hopped up and pushed down a lever just left of the leather strap meant to steer the thing in the air.

With a goat of bright blue flames, the thing took off into the air, leaving the two metal heads gawking on the platform.

A laugh bubbled up from the girl's throat as she circled them. She waved, then pulled on her goggles and pulled up the scarf to cover her eyes. She directed the glider up, knowing the two would follow her.

And follow they did, the wings on their back's easily lifting them into the air and up into the atmosphere. The pilot laughed as they caught up to her, flapping the massive appendages desperately. The dark male made a warning noise to his sister as he fell back and the girl pulled the glider up to slow down.

The two metal heads gratefully slowed their pace to match hers and rose up on an updraft. Zara followed them up as the female, Kitala, directed the trio to the volcano in the center of the desert.

It did not take them long to reach the mountain, which the siblings used the hot air in the volcano to keep aloft as the pilot waved to her friends and took off again into the desert sky. She left them, and rose up into the high, near waterless clouds, out of sight of any threats on the ground.

The girl circled the sky, enjoying the peace of the upper atmospheres. Down below her was her city, and all the problems that went along with it. Although the marauders had been quiet as of late, it did not mean they had left. They were most likely regrouping their numbers for more petty assaults on the Spargan fleet. That was their biggest concern, competition in an already sparse desert.

It all made the girl glad she didn't have to rule yet, and had many years yet to be a simple child. Besides the marauders, there was also the metal cities of Haven, Kras and Hitt. Although Kras wasn't much of a nuisance, being too far north to care for the dealings of a desert city and her corrupted sister. Hitt city never cared for the desert, thankfully, but had a rabid hate for Haven that was only quelled by their mutual hate for metal heads. Hitt city was farther south, on the small island just south of Haven. If Haven city dies, Hitt would be the next metal head hotspot, and they all knew it.

Haven City was Spargus' closest neighbor, and many of the citizens of Spargus where refugees and castouts. It made them paranoid as to the dealing of Mar's old city.

Zara knew from the countless flybys by their gliders, and the intelligence gathered by their spies that Haven was running out of eco, and fast. Damas feared that they would start looking to the wasteland for supplies, bringing their troops much too close for comfort.

The sound of her communicator buzzing in her ear brought her to the present. Ground and sky communication was not possible between glider and car, thanks to the riotous winds and lack of communication towers. So the only ones who could directly connect to her communicator in the air was either a high powered radio connection, similar to the ones that Haven and the monk temple had, or the central tower in the city. She put a finger to the button on the side of her head, activating the communication.

"Respond," came a fuzzy voice.

"Lordess Mar, responding," the girl answered firmly.

The connection garbled before becoming clear as the signal was latched onto from the central tower. The voice from inside suddenly became much clearer, making it obviously Sig who hailed her. "Cherry Pit, you there?" He asked again.

"Yeah, Sig."

"I need you to come back to the palace, pronto. I need ta talk to ya."

"Yes, captain." She made a mock salute, knowing he wouldn't see but he would know she did it. The connection was cut quickly, as it was dangerous to distract a pilot for too long. She pulled up into the clouds further, turning her glider around swiftly toward Spargus.

/-/-/

The creaky gears ground to a stop at the top of the shaft, and the princess hopped out. Dusty and dark brown from both sand and sun, Sig could tell she had just come in from the desert.

He smiled at her, not being able to help himself. "Find anythin', Cherry Pit?"

She shook her head. "Just an escort mission, no time for any hunting." She smiled nonetheless, her blue eyes bright. "What'd you want to talk about?" She asked cheerfully.

Just then, a loud bark came from the curtained hallway behind the King's thrown, followed by the soft sound of bare feet. ChumChum came bounding out from behind the chair, followed closely by Mar, and proceeded to run across the throne room, under Sig's legs, and jumping up as he reached Zara. The girl caught him with practiced ease and the crocadog made himself at home in her arms. The little boy that had chased after him, watched him as he took refuge with his older sibling, and began to pout.

Zara laughed and set ChumChum back on the sandstone. The boy's blue eyes lit up and he resumed his chase of the chubby little dog. Zara watched them as they twined around and around the throne room, the dog yipping every time Mar seem to be just about to catch him, and Mar shouting out nonsensical noises when the dog moved just out of his reach.

Mar had never talked in his two years, but Salina, the queen of Spargus insisted that he would when he was ready. Just give him time, for he is in no hurry.

The two older wastelanders watched the antics of the child and his dog for a long time, before Sig cleared his throat a little awkwardly, bringing back attention to himself. The girl looked at him, a gentle smile on her lips and silently asked him to continue.

"Zara," he began, and the girl's stomach dropped. She knew that tone, and he said her name, not her pet name.

"What's going on?" She silently cursed her own voice for cracking, and how defensive she sounded.

"Zara," he said again, this time sounding he was trying to calm a frightened animal. The heiress hated it. "Your father and I have been talking." He began slowly. The girl, for some reason beyond her, did not like where this was going. "And we've decided that I need to get back to my other duties."

"Other duties?" She repeated, accusingly. "What other duties."

"The duties to my king, your father."

"I know who my father is," she snapped. "Get to the point."

Sig sighed, he knew she was quick to anger, just like her father. "Haven is getting to frisky for our liking." He sighed heavily, looking out the giant window into the city. "He needs someone with knowledge of the black market to go in and see what the underside looks like."

"What does this have to do with anything?" She demanded. She knew exactly, but she refused to believe it until he said it himself.

He looked back over at her thoughtfully. "He's asked me to go. I know a few connections from my time in Haven, and might be able to get some more valuable information on these Underground people."

"Who cares for that stupid city? They owe-"

"It's not about owing anybody anything," Sig retorted. "It's about the safety of you and your people, Zara." The gentle tone he'd been using had all but vanished. If she was going to be hostile, so was he.

"Then send someone else, we'll be safer with you here in Spargus, doing what you've always done, guarding Mar and me." She took a different approach, latching onto his forearm and attempted to look weak and pathetic. To anyone else, it would have worked, but Sig knew her too well.

He shook her off physically, despite the reproachful glare it earned him. "I'm sorry, Cherry Pit, but I have to do what I have to do. No questions asked."

"I have the right to ask questions!" She yelled, not noticing Mar had stopped his game and was watching her. "I have even the right to answer them."

"This doesn't involve you."

She baulked. "It does if you're leaving!"

"Zara," he said quietly in return, trying to calm her down. "You have always had amazing strength in the face of danger. I need this to be no different. I need you to be strong." He looked at her, his artificial eye lens focusing in and out on her face. "For Mar, and for me."

This stopped the girl before she could retort and she simply looked back at him. She opened her mouth to say something but it seemed she had forgotten what she wanted to say. Rather abruptly, she tore herself away from him. Without a word she left the throne room, her boot falls fading down the hall.

Sig sighed heavily, as if under a huge burden, closing his good eye. He felt a light tugging on his the rim of his boots and looked down to find Mar staring up at him. The large wastelander couldn't resist the questioning eyes and he bent down to pick the small body.

"Don't worry," He said in reply to whatever unspoken question that the heir had posed. "I won't be gone forever."

/-/-/

What was so important about that stupid city anyway? The girl picked up a pillow off her bed and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a dull whump before falling down to collapse a stack of books with a flutter of pages and cloth. The second pillow was aimed at the window and soared out with little problem. Whether it landed at the base some hundred feet down, or was lost forever in the merciless waves, she honestly didn't care. She would just ask for another one.

That's how it had always been. Even though she made herself strive just like everyone else, the fact never left her that she could get anything she could ever want by just simply asking for it. But for some reason, she knew that it wouldn't be that simple.

But that was fine with her. Sig could go and get himself killed for all she cared. The third pillow landed just below the window sill.

She collapsed on the officially pillow-less bed, becoming silent, but refusing to cry. She wouldn't cave into this, she wasn't this weak, this childish.

She closed her eyes, trying to blank her tumultuous mind. The waves far below the tower, the ones that were probably tearing her pillow apart, crashed up against the side of the city, the retreated. An arid desert breeze blew in from the window, ticking the wind chimes that lined the ceiling. Their music was chaotic but beautiful, the mixture of wood, glass, and metals creating a cacophony of noise.

She suddenly sat up, an idea striking her. What was so important with that damned city?


	2. Chapter 2

Compared to flights during the day, under the scorching sun, the nighttime flights were frigid. Especially over the ocean, where the water cooled the air much faster than the sand could.

Zara took her hand off the glider grip-handle to adjust her scarf to protect her face from the harsh winds that buffeted her. The water below her slipped past in a continuous sheen, only kicking up at her passing. The silver glow of Haven City had been sitting on the horizon for at least an hour, slowly become more recognizable.

But as it was becoming to be known as truly the city from her childhood, it was just as quickly corrupting the fuzzy memory of brilliant spires and beautiful lights. It was still beautiful, a sight to behold, but it felt cold and tainted. As she got closer, the palace came into sight, rising above the cowering city like a tyrant.

The datapad that sat trapped under her foot gave a loud complaint. She glanced down at it, seeing it very clearly depicting an electric detection field.

She banked upward sharply, remembering stories of people who had comrades that had made the mistake of ignoring this warning. Sure enough, as she climbed in altitude, a moving wave of red skimmed over the water. She let out a breath as it went under without any harm to her. 

Detection fields had a tendency to emit solids walls of electricity. So as it was, she had heard stories of people knocked clean out of the air and into the bomb infested water. Haven had a love for nasty weapons. She also remembered stories and pictures of spike bombs that happen to infest Haven’s water. Spike bombs were a nasty breed. They were the kind that imbedded themselves into the skin, then blew up.

Zara activated the glider’s cloak once she was high up enough to not need to worry about the field, giving her glider the illusion of invisibility. She flew over the drill platform first. She had never actually been there in person, but had seen pictures of the giant drill and the rotating building. It seemed to not have changed much, except for the sheen of the eco shield surrounding the floating structure.

She took nothing else to note and moved on. Her face contorted with surprised when she found the electric wall had dropped off her radar. She lowered her glider back down, closer to the water, finding structures that poked out of the water, but ruined by war and weather.

But then the city rose up, the walls crumbling and falling. She gasped, pulling the glider to fly slowly forward, easily squeezing through a hole in the wall. She came upon what looked to be Old Sandover, but she couldn’t recognize anything within the ruined little sector. Plumes of smoke still rose up from a few buildings, or at least what used to be buildings. All the windows were shattered, or dark. The landscape was grey, blank, lifeless.

She set down not far from the wall she had come in, powering down her glider and pulled her eco rifle from its holster. She hopped off, scanning the area from the vantage point on the roof. It more than just looked dead, but sounded and felt like it, too. Nothing moved; there was no noise. Death seemed to linger here; in every shadow and broken window.

It made the girl sick to her stomach. She wanted to leave this dark place. The moon through off shadows that looked too much like some distant nightmare she had no way of placing.

In this place of so little movement, anything could wake the dead. The sound of soft boot-falls alerted the wastelander, and she cocked her rifle down at the platform sidewalk that the red clad elf was walking on. Said elf, also hearing Zara’s movements, cocked her own twin pistols and aimed them up at the shadow above her.

Ashelin cursed herself. Underground agents crawled these broken streets like rats, and she thought she would not find trouble. It was just a smuggling investigation, but the Underground had to get their funding from somewhere, and it certainly wasn’t a legal source.

She figured rather quickly that the one above her, with all its ripped clothing and heavy looking rifle, was most likely a resistant fighter. They had a reputation amongst the guard for killing anything in red or had a gem in its head upon sight. Ashelin was a prime target.

So of course, the Havenite shot first. Her aim was dead on, but had to give the fighter credit for agility. They had ducked almost as fast as they had appeared. She cursed again. That gunshot would have alerted just about anything in the vicinity of their presence.

There was the distinct sound of metal tipped boots scrabbling across concrete, and Ashelin could hear the fighter running to the opposite side of the roof. She cursed for the third time. Let him go, or waste a little energy and have one less agent to deal with? If she didn’t deal with him now, Ashelin knew it could come back and bite her in the ass.

She took a running leap up the wall, catching the low roof and pulling herself up with ease. She had not truly expected the agent to be as close to her as they were, and found she stared up the barrel of a double cannon eco rifle. Any other moment, and she would comment on the strangeness of the model, but she decided this was not the time.

She raised her pistols, shooting one into the leg of her attacker. The agent, which she now realized was a young woman, maybe even a girl, went down to one knee. The rifle went off, the glob of eco whistling past her face, burning her cheek and singing her red hair.

Ashelin recover from her shock at the close-call, remembering her father always telling her to keep a level head, even at the business end of the barrel. She smacked the rifle away, sending it clattering across the roof top, and rose to her feet. She aimed at the girl, her face covered by a scarf and goggles. She was clad in travelers clothing, Ashelin realized belatedly, so she was not an agent after all. Ashelin stopped when she spotted the Seal of Mar strapped defiantly to the brace on her forearm.

“State your name and purpose,” Asheline demanded.

The Havenite allowed the girl to stand when she made the attempt, stepping back to allow her space. The girl stared at her through her goggles, favoring her left leg, but her stance still managed to emit pride and defiance.

“My name is Zara Setfan Mar, lower your weapon.” There was a moment where the silence around then seemed to turn thick. Ashelin felt that she could cut the tension with a knife. This girl had to be lying. Zara was dead. The entire Mar family was dead. It was impossible.

“Take off your coverings.” The Havenite demanded, still holding the girl at the end of her pistol. She could almost feel the smile on the girl’s lips as she complied.

Ashelin let out a breath that she wasn’t aware she had been holding. The face was unmistakable. The same eyes, the same flat nose, although it look like it had been broken since the last she seen her. The only difference was age, dirt, and few scares. “Zara?”

The girl grunted as she lowered herself onto her rump again, and put pressure on the wound. She hissed, and cursed. “You had to shoot me?”

Ashelin made a noise. “You were the pointing that weird-ass gun at me.”

“And you weren’t doing the exact same thing?” She replied sardonically.

Ashelin was thrown for a loop for a moment. This was Zara, her friend from so long ago, a friend she had thought was dead for years. And here she was. Older, tougher, but with the same brilliant blue eyes.

The Havenite sighed heavily, retrieving the girl’s rifle and returning to her. She pulled out a roll of bandages and silently handed it to her. Zara worked silently at her boot buckles, getting to the bleeding flesh underneath, wrapping it with a practiced efficiency. It wasn’t serious, but it was deep enough to stain the bandage as she wrapped it.

Once she was done, the Mar looked down at her stained gloves with a frown. “Dad’s going to kill me when he finds out.”  
“Damas’ alive?”

Zara looked up at her as if she had forgotten she was there. “Of course. How do you think I’m still here?”

“I don’t, Zara, you’ve been gone for nine years. I thought your entire family was dead.”

“Harder to kill a Mar than that,” the girl commented, as if she had heard that statement too many times.

The Spargan looked around, remembering her surrounding once her wound had been taken care of. “What happened here?” She asked, her tone neither asking for an answer, nor demanding one. It was a simple inquiry in which Ashelin had the choice to answer or not.

“Metal heads,” Ashelin answered simply. “They broke through the wall.”

“Why?” The innocent curiosity was suddenly gone, replaced by something else. Ashelin realized she was rather bluntly probing for a confession.

“I don’t know,” Ashelin answered, guarded.

The Lordess frowned, finding nothing of any true interest in this conversation. She stood, testing her leg, before waddling over to the glider. Ashelin must not have noticed it before, because she seemed perplexed by its bird shaped appearance. “I have to leave,” Zara said, stating the obvious.

Ashelin looked at her for a moment, the glanced back at the glider. “Where?”

“The wasteland.”

“You just got here.”  
   
Zara turned to look at her. “I know, but I don’t want to be here long. It was never my intention to land in the first place.”

“Then why did you?”

She looked around, sadness crossing her face for a moment. She sighed forlornly. “Because I was sad to see this place in such devastation.” Her voice was just above a whisper.

Ashelin frowned. “So that’s it then? You just pop up long enough to get shot then you leave?”

The girl laughed. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Is there any way for me to contact you?”

The girl paused in her actions of prepping the machine, looking thoughtful. After a moment she dug through her pack and pulled out a beacon signal. “Go out to the wasteland if you want to see me, and activate it. I will come find you.”

/-/-/

“Meh, I'll just say I went for a walk or something,” She said more to herself than anyone else. Not that there was anyone else anyway. The sun had yet to rise above the desert horizon, only monks, beginning their daily prayers could be seen moving in their formation to the small prayer ground. The night was one of the more busy times in Spargus, but there was a few hour period just before dawn where people slept in warm bed while it was cold out. As it was, Zara’s breath curled out of her mouth with each breath. The coldest and darkest time was just before the dawn.

She jumped down from the ledge, and onto the sea slicked rocks. She grunted as her injured leg was jarred upon impact, and she lost her balance. She gave a short cry as she tumbled into the ocean, her leg stinging in the salty water. This wasn't the first time she had been shot, and it wasn't a clean shot, more like a graze. Even still, it was painful.  
She splashed in the water, but finding the rocks too slippery to climb up onto. Why she though it was a good idea to try a balancing act on an injured leg was beyond her.  
Just when she thought she would have to swim to the gentle sand incline, she was heaved straight out of the water. She squawked indignantly as she came face to face with her guardian.

“Sig!” She cried happily.

He set her down, his organic eye running over her soaked form, tired eyes, and stained pant leg. “You fell in,” he deadpanned.

“Brilliant observation,” she snarked.

He laughed, his booming voice bouncing off the building. “I'm askin' you why, Cherry Pit.”

“Oh! Why didn't you just say so!” She paused, taking a large breath as she tried to organize her excuse. “I had this really cool, freaky dream and decided to come out to examine it. Then I fell in.” She gestured to the water lamely. In her mind, it had sounded so much better.

He just grunted, looking at her leg, which had started to bleed through the bandage, but decided to ignore it for now. “I didn't even see you leave. How long have you been out here?”

“Oh, you know me, big guy. I can be stealthy, and I'm hardly a morning person.” She glared at the lightening horizon over the palace, wishing she could just go to bed. “I think I'm going to go back to my room and sleep the rest of the morning off.”

She turned to leave, but only got a few yards before Sig called her back. “Just because I'm going to let you get away with your night long adventures to Precursors know where, does not mean I'm going to let you shirk off your studies.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, suddenly hating him. “You are not my guardian anymore, so stop acting like it.”

For a second he looked as if she had struck him with a flat board. She instantly wanted to reel all the words back in. She thought briefly of apologizing but knew her pride wouldn’t allow it.

There was a black silence between the two of them, and for a moment, Zara thought Sig might hit her.

But his shoulders suddenly dropped, as if defeated. His voice came to her over the sound of the crashing waves, sound cold and strained. “I apologize if I offended you, my Lordess.”  

/-/-/

Two days later, Mar ran down one of the many halls of the palace as fast as his stubby little legs could carry him. Today was Zara’s birthday, and he wanted to give her the present he had found this morning. Behind him, he could hear the long, prideful steps of his mother, and the swishing of her waistcoat. The little boy grinned, reaching into his pocket as he went, and touched the smooth surface of his present. 

“Careful, Mar. If you keep playing with it, you’ll break it before you can give it to her.”

The boy stopped his waddle run to wait for his mother and ChumChum, who had been trailing behind obediently. Salina stopped and picked the boy up into her arms. He pulled the green beetle out of his pocket and brought around for his mother to examine. She appeared to look at it closely before looking back to him with a nod and a smile.

They reached the end of the hall, and knocked on the door. Salina put the boy down as she heard her daughter come to greet them. As soon as the heavy wooden door opened, Mar raced in between the young princess’s legs, ChumChum following. The two women laughed as boy and dog ran in circles around the cluttered space. 

"Happy birthday, Zara," Salina said through her soft laughter. The girl looked at her, a smile on her lips. Mar, deciding now was a good time, ran over to his sister and offered her the beetle. Zara looked appalled for a moment, looking at the luminescent green that glowed off the bug's shell. Mar grinned as she took it and held it up to examine it.

Smiling down at Mar, she said her thank you and placed it on the shelf, beside her own collection of bugs the two year old had collected for her.  
Salina beckoned her son over and straightened his clothes, a fine blue jacket over his a white shirt and black pants. "Go take Chummy and remind your father that today is his daughter's birthday."

The boy nodded enthusiastically and ran past, the crocadog following, ever obedient. Salina watched him go, a fondness in her eyes as he disappeared. As soon as the child was out of earshot, she turned to her daughter again. "I heard you got into a fight with Sig."

"It wasn't a fight!" She defended. "It was just a disagreement."

"And there is still no apologies."

"Why should I? He's the one that keeps trying to control me. He's not my guardian anymore, and has no right to." She huffed and became silent, turning her back to her mother.  
Salina hummed. "So that is what this is about." She paused and stepped closer to her daughter, wrapping the girl in an embrace. "He isn't leaving forever. He'll come back."

"Yeah? In what, five years?" She spat bitterly. "I won't need him anymore, by then."

"You don't need him now." Salina trailed away for a moment. "How about this. I'll prove to you that you don't need him. Why don't we go to the eco mines together, for the next check."

Zara looked up happily. "Really? You'll let me come this time?"

"Of course. Being you are now fourteen, I think you are old enough. Now try to apologize to Sig before he leaves, you might not get another chance. If you don’t, you will always regret it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to get a few things down. When I was originally writing this, I had no sense of timeline. So for future reference, Zara is fourteen, Mar is two, and Jak has just landed in Haven City, or is about to, anyway. So when Jak II starts, Zara will be sixteen, a year younger than Jak, and Mar will be four. I estimated that was how old he was in the games, and it helps explain why he doesn’t remember much. I don’t remember much from when I was four.
> 
> Also, the Crocadog’s name is ChumChum. It was previously Sem, but I thought Chummy was cuter. If you find a place where this trips, please tell me.


	3. Chapter 3

It really was an expanse of nothing. Sand as far as the eye could see, and not a thing otherwise. Ashelin had flown over the desert for hours, taking note of the ruins and tunnels, and the giant temple that seemed to rise up from the sea. It was all strangely awe inspiring, reminding her how small she really was. She finally came to a stop, landing on the sand in an almost sheltered alcove. At least she thought it seemed sheltered, seeing as it had trees and even fresh water. 

She activated the beacon, and waited. The sand whipped past her face, and she knew she would have blemishes tomorrow. She realized the importance of that scarf Zara had been wearing when she had first met her, the black one that had so easily hid her face, making her a target. Again, she looked around the empty expanse, wondering how any kind of person, let alone an entire city, could survive out here. There was nothing to live off of. Of course, Damas was known to be resourceful. It was what made him such a valuable ally and deadly enemy all the same.

She wasn't too sure of the mistake she made, but she found herself dozing after a while. The relentless sun was being blocked perfectly by the mountain side behind her, giving her some much appreciated shade, and cutting through the heat like a knife. Conditions were comfortable, and not an enemy in sight. It had all happened so naturally, she hadn't even realized she had nodded off until she was being roughly shaken.

First instinct was to get away from the stranger. She had never seen him before, this man with shaggy black hair and the brightest green eyes she had ever seen. He wore a scarf wrapped around his head, hair peeking out from between the folds, and eyes angrily watching her. He was also wearing a plated armor that brought to mind metal head armor. She flicked one pistol up, faster than most people could react to, but he just jotted a hand out to grab at her wrist. That was when she realized he was not an elf. There was no way such claws could be owned by an elf. The natural blades dug into the tender flesh at the base of her hand and the pistol tumbled out of her hand.

A snarl had could be heard from beneath the cloth, and without releasing her he leaned toward her face, his eyes alight with rage. "Never fall asleep in the desert, Havenite."

Ashelin spat, reveling in the way he jumped back, releasing her arm as if it had burned him. He stalked away, one arm lifting up in the direction she had seen the temple earlier. 

"Go to the temple." He then proceeded to confirm her suspicions. He sank forward, falling to his hands, as his bones flawlessly rearranged themselves into a new form. A dog; no, a wolf. He was too big to be a dog. He was too big to be a wolf, too, but she had no other way of describing him. But one thing was clear, even though she had never seen anything quite like him, he was metal head. The gem, placed on his chest, was enough of an indication, if his size hadn't told her. Big and black, a thick tail that sported ivory spikes, massive wings that stretched up above him, and paws that looked ideal for running across a shifting landscape.

He turned his head to examine her cruelly, intelligent green eyes sizing her up. He never quite left that crouch he had fallen into. He opened his long muzzle, the gleam of teeth easily seen from only the three yard distance they stood from each other. The words that came forth from his mouth seemed almost unnatural, even as his tongue and lips easily formed the words. "Are you coming?"

He bounded up a nearby palm tree, taking off from the higher vantage point. Ashelin followed, the engines in her hellcat roaring to life. She was surprised; even with the hellcat’s engine’s straining in the sweltering air, the city born machine was still having a hard time keeping up with creature. The metal head himself seemed completely unperturbed by the heat, despite the thick layer of black fur that covered every inch of his wolfish form.

She followed him some ways over the empty expanse, then over ocean. It was there that she realized why he was unaffected by the heat. He made a sharp dive, hitting the ocean surface with little splash. He used the momentum of the dive to arch under the water and shoot up into the air again. Water cascaded off of him as he gained altitude. 

The air was substantially cooler as they approached a spire like mountain that jutted from the ocean in a spectacular way. She realized with some awe that this was one of the mountains she noticed earlier. Precurian writings were scrawled all across the unnaturally carved stone that seemed to peek through the rock of the natural mountain. There was something inside, some sort of structure that had lay dormant and hidden from all on the outside.

They flew carefully through a break in the rock that hid a path up the side of the mountain. He landed softly on the sand in a crouch, next to a wheeled vehicle with massive hydraulic pumps the size of her torso. The vehicle in a whole looked like a spider. Ashelin figured this was Zara’s passage to the mountain.

Looking ahead, she saw gigantic pillars, and beyond that a door with a Precursor Guardian looking down at them with its bulging stone eyes. Ashelin stood in wonder at the structure, noticing that there were giant torches on the pillars, well maintained.

She wasn’t sure if she was curious of the existence here, or afraid of it. “Is this where wastelanders live?” She asked the metal head. He had turned back into a pseudo-elf and removed his head coverings during her examination of the building.

“No, this is where the monks live.” When she looked at him, a silent query in her gaze, he obliged her. “Mostly hermits that live outside of civilization. Fairly peaceful people, but they are well trained to protect their way of life, Havenite, so don’t think of intruding.”

She glared at the creature reproachfully. “I’m not my father, you know,” she snapped. “Besides, you have no room to talk, metal head.” She spat the name like venom.

His face twisted up like she was some disgusting slug that had crawled across his foot. He, however, refrained from replying as he tromped past her toward the door, which opened with a creak and scrape of stone upon stone. 

Inside was a carefully built structure. The walls, covered in torches and platforms rose all the way to the sky it seemed. She stared, stricken by its ancient beauty. She barely noticed the two girls standing over by a small fire built. It was then she noticed the late hour, and how cold it had gotten since she had been out of the sun.

She looked over at the other two. A girl with pure white hair, about as old as the metal head looked, and with same striking eyes. She also wore a pendant around her neck, that looked like a miniature skull gem, or in their case, a chest gem. The boy and girl were siblings, that much was apparent. The second girl was Zara. The young Mar had stood to greet her when she came in, her long coat, hanging over one shoulder and wrapping around her neck swishing as she walked forward.

She wrapped Ashelin in an embrace, one the Havenite gladly excepted and returned. “So this is what you’ve been doing all these years?” Ashelin asked. “A hermit in the desert?”

The girl laughed. “Oh, no. I’m not a monk, just using their sanctuary for the night. The desert gets dangerous.”

“Then what have you been doing?”

The fourteen year old smiled. “Taming the wild.” It was a simply reply that seemed to speak volumes.

Ashelin waved a hand at the two metal heads gathered around the small fire, talking in some weird, clipped language. “Apparently.”

The female must have heard the jibe, as she suddenly flicked her face in their direction. “Hey,” she called indignantly. “We’re not metal heads. We’re Hora Quan. Our bodies haven’t been so poisoned by dark eco that our limbs fall off, and we have retained the powers the precursors gave us by creation.”

“Power? What powers?.” Ashelin inquired.

The girl smiled, and said something to her brother in that same clipped language as before. He snarled and stood.

“It doesn’t matter to you, Havenite.”

“It matters if your still a metal head.”

“We’re different,” the female replied in her brother’s stead.

The Havenite looked down at the smaller girl. “How so?”

“Metal heads from the cities have been exposed to dark eco. Their kind,” she gestured to the two, “still hold their forms and eco powers that their ancestors did.”

Ashelin grimaced. “That’s just an old fairy tale.”

Zara looked up at her earnestly for a moment. “Is it?” The girl shook her head after a moment. “Anyway, I have dinner all ready and stuff.” She smiled a little evilly. “I hope you like lizard jerky and octopus eggs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there was no post last week. It just was not happening.


	4. Chapter 4

“You know,” Kit said as they moved through the many halls of the palace. “I had no idea that Kilo had a sister,” she finished, looking up at the arched ceiling.

“Yeah,” Kovu replied after a couple of seconds. “Why didn’t you tell us, Reichi?”

Zara shrugged, “I didn’t think it was important.” She moved to stand in front of a window, leaning on the sandstone sill. “I never expected her to come to the desert.”

Kovu sat down beside her, in his elf form, leaning against the wall beside a pot of fragment smelling desert flowers. He picked one of the many blossoms from its stem, bringing the flower to his nose. “Why didn’t you tell her about Kilo.”

Zara suddenly shifted, her face screwing up. “Are you crazy?” She snapped. Kovu dropped the flower in his surprise, the looping, papery red petals folding in his lap. “What was I supposed to tell her?” Zara took in a sharp breath. “Oh, yeah,” her voice dropped an octave to signifying her mimicry. “Your brother’s alive and well, just a spy for us in Haven city. Sorry no one ever told you!”

Someone laughed, making all three children jump. Kit and Zara spun around; Kovu leaned forward from where he was sitting to see around the girls’ legs. The subject of their conversation was walking down the empty hall toward them, still in the heavy garb of the Havenite lower class. “Poor Ash,” he said.

Zara smiled at seeing the older man. She broke from the window sill and collided with him in a hug. “You’re back!”

“Only for a day. Sig and I are being deported again tomorrow.” He was a taller man, red braids making up his thick mane. His face was paler, and gaunter than Zara remembered. The situation in Haven must be getting worse. Despite all this, his green eyes were kind as they looked down on the girl.

“It’s still good to see you,” she replied sincerely.

“I feel special, your Highness.” He bowed deeply to her. Once he straightened, he changed the subject, his face hardening. “You saw my sister.” It wasn’t a question.

“Don’t tell Papa.”

Kilo laughed, but his eyes were sad. “It’s good to see you haven’t quite grown up since I last saw you.” Zara frowned, Kilo laughed. “I don’t kiss and tell.” He bent down and Zara gave him a peck on his grizzly cheek.

“You need to shave.”

“Alright, alright,” he waved her off. “But don’t go following my sister around.” He spoke with a sudden seriousness. “I don’t want to find you anywhere near Haven, got it?”

Zara nodded. “But if she comes back-“

“Don’t tell her I’m alive. As far as she’s concerned, I’m dead.” He stood, and looked off down the hall. “I have to go, be good.”

Zara called his name to ask for an explanation, but he seemed lost in the past. She watched his walk away, dissatisfied.

“I don’t like him,” Kovu grumped. “I never have and never will.” He paused for a moment. “What was he actually banished for anyway?”

Zara tore her eyes away from the spot he had disappeared. “I don’t know, he never told me.” Zara shook her head. “You guys should go home.”

“What?” Kit asked. “You’re trying to get rid of us now?”

“No,” Zara placated. “I’m about to compromise my pride as the future queen, and I rather you lot not be there.”

/-/-/

She hesitated. She knew why, but didn’t want to admit it. The metal door in front of her was daunting, even in its plainness. A scrap metal door, probably torn off an abandoned hellcat, all the paint either scratched off or burned off.

A deep breath and she racked her calloused knuckles across the metal. The gentle shuffling inside was abruptly stopped and she waited with her breath held for an answer from inside. For a long moment, the only thing she heard was the crashing waves to her right and her own heart beating inside her throat.

“Who is it?” The deep voice from the inside, gruff in nature, and holding the accented tinge of the Havenite lower class.

“It’s me,” she replied after a moment.

There was silence again, this time it seemed heavier than before. She was sure that Sig was about to tell her to go away, and she was about to accept that punishment. Tear welled in her eyes, panic gripped her heart like an icy lurker claw.

“I’m sorry,” she called through the door, her voice cracking against her will. She threw herself against the metal barrier, collapsing outside it. “I’ve been terrible to you, and I’m sorry. You’ve been my guardian all these years, and I know it’s time you moved on, but I’m scared I’ll never see you again. I don’t want to be queen on my own; I don’t want to grow up on my own. You deserve better than this, better than the way I’ve been treating you. I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out faster than she could stop them, everything that she had held in for the past week all fell out of her, splayed across the floor, ready to be judged.

Another eternity long moment passed, then she found the door she was using to support herself suddenly disappear. She landed on her shoulder, the steel toe of a boot digging into her cheek. She didn’t bother to pick herself up.

Sig did it for her. He knelt down to her, picking her and pulling her into his lap, just like he used to when she was Mar’s age. She curled into his chest, clenching the cloth of his loose tunic. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

Sig sighed heavily, and it was like he was breathing life into her. She hadn’t realized that she was holding her breath between words. “I’m sorry,” she said again, but it came out with the long exhale of breath.

“You beat yourself too much over this.”

“What I said was wrong.” She reasoned with him. He shouldn’t forgive her this quickly. He should only forgive her when she had forgiven herself.

“What you said, Cherry Pit, was that you were scared. It just came out the only way you knew how to say it.”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

Sig laughed suddenly. “I’m goin’ ta miss you, Cherry Pit.”

“Then why don’t you stay?” Hope flared painfully in her chest. Just a chance to convince him was all she needed. “I still need you, and you won’t have to leave home. It’s a win-win situation.”

Sig chuckled, but it was sad. “You don’ need me, Cherry Pit. Every day I see you grow more and more inta the woman that will someday lead her people.”

Zara frowned, feeling that familiar pit of dread settle at the bottom of her stomach. “I’m not ready to become queen. I’ll never be good at it. I get scared when I talk in front of too many people, I’m not smart enough to come up with brilliant battle plans, I’m not brave enough to run in shooting. Precursors, Sig, I can’t even fix my own sand coat by myself.” She pouted. “I think Mar should be leader. He’s three, and already has a loyal following at his playground. Half of them don’t even know his name ‘cause he doesn’t talk.”

Sig sighed again, but it the air of a coming explanation. “You know that the monks have predicted that the Prince will be taken away from Spargus. They already said he won’t be leadin’ Spargus for a long time.”

“You know mine too, don’t you?”

“Zara, I can’t tell you. You know that.”

She frowned. “I won’t tell anyone you told me,” she pleaded.

There was a long moment of silence. Zara watched his face for any change. He was silent for a long time, his poker face solid. Finally, he said, with an air of finality. “Live life in the fullest, and try not to leave home. When it comes your time to lead, I will be right beside you. That is an oath of honor, made only to my princess.”

**Author's Note:**

> Finally I get to post this here. I posted this on fanfiction, as well. I know that OCs are not always greeted with a warm reception, but I have worked on Zara for years and have tried to make her someone that people will care about. This is an overused and cliche story line, I will admit. I did originally create this when I was 13. I hope that you give it a chance and enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it.
> 
> This was actually written more than two years ago, so it's kind of... bad. Sorry... 
> 
> Also, Before I forget to mention (because I will) this is AU.


End file.
